


The Thing Is...

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: AU - Everyone Talks It Out, Background WayHaught, F/M, Poor Wave Someone Tell Her What's Up, miscommunications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7277488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waverly sees hickeys all over her sister's neck and draws the exact wrong conclusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thing Is...

“Hey, Wave!” calls Wynonna from inside the bathroom.  She prods the string of bruises around her neck, dark and vaguely mouth-shaped, she guesses.  _He is in so much trouble_ , she thinks irritably, unable to stop herself from bothering the sensitive flesh.  “Do you have any of that magic concealer?”

A moment later, her sister pokes her head through the open door, muttering a quick, “Oh, jeez,” at the sight of her.  “Guess you and Doc made up?”

Confused, Wynonna frowns and watches Waverly start digging through a worn makeup bag.  “I mean—he’s a grownup, there wasn’t really any making-up necessary.  Which we didn’t really have time for,” she answers distantly.

Opening her mouth, she starts to say something before she seems to think better of it, and she instead hands Wynonna a tube.  She worries her lip for a moment and Wynonna can _tell_ she’s working up to say something, but she just shakes her head sharply and says, “Okay.  I gotta get going—see you later?”

\--

“Are you okay?” Nicole asks, knocking her toe with the tip of her boot under the table.

Distracted, Waverly hums before mumbling, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re just, um, you’re chewing _angrily_ ,” she replies, sounding concerned.  “What’s going on?  Aside from the usual.”

Waverly sets her burger down and looks at her girlfriend—her _girlfriend_ —intently for a long moment before sighing, “Wynonna had all these hickeys this morning.  So I ask, you know, because Doc’s back in town, like oh I guess they’re doing their… _thing_ , again.  She was just really weird.”  She shrugs, uncomfortable.  “I guess I just thought she’d talk to me?”

She realizes right then that she’s hurt.  She stomps that down.  Her sister’s entitled to her secrets, after all, and she hasn’t even told her about Nicole, but…

“Maybe she’s not ready?” Nicole offers.

“I guess,” she grumbles, pushing her fries through the last smears of ketchup on her plate.

\--

“I’m gonna get you back for those hickeys,” Wynonna brushes against his ear, already bored with the files he’s spread out in front of her.

“Revenge later,” Dolls counters.  “Work now.”  The gentle thrill of his fingers against her thigh betray his words.

“You’re no fun,” she pouts, pecking his shoulder and pulling out of his space.

“I’m plenty of fun,” he frowns back.  “But we have actual work to do.”

With a groan, she picks up the nearest file and flips it open.  She still doesn’t understand how this shit could involve so much _reading_ or why she has to be a part of it—shouldn’t Waverly be handling this sort of thing?—but she _tries_ to focus.  Honestly, she’s not even sure how this is supposed to help them track Willa and Bobo.  This one she’s just taking his word on, noting anything that seems even a _little_ like it might be helpful.  Soon, the table’s fairly covered, and she stands, scrubbing her face as she paces.

“I don’t know what any of this means, except that my fugitive sister is still gone and we have no idea where to start looking,” she sighs.

\--

She tries—she really does try—to stay out of it.  Her sister’s a big girl, she can handle herself, and it’s really not any of Waverly’s business.  But as she’s been compiling what they have (and what they don’t) half of her attention has been on Wynonna and Dolls.  He’s got this _look_ when she’s not paying attention, stricken almost, lips gently curled, and, dammit, it about breaks Waverly’s heart.  As much as Wynonna complains about the guy, she can _see_ he has some feelings in there.  He keeps brushing his hands against her shoulder, her back, sometimes shoving her away for some task or so he can actually focus on what he’s doing.

It’s just that she doesn’t think Wynonna knows what she’s doing.  Because she keeps returning the touches, smiling almost playfully.

He leaves with the promise of pizza on his return, mumbling something about how “troubling” their taste in toppings is—listen, broccoli and artichoke hearts is _delicious_ on a white pizza and Waverly will fight anyone on that front—and she rounds on Wynonna.

“I think he likes you a lot,” she blurts.

Smirking, her sister replies, “Yeah, well, I’d hope so—near-death experiences will really bond people.”

“No, I mean— _likes_ you, likes you,” Waverly clarifies.  “Maybe you should, I dunno, cool it, if you’re not…”  She looks down.  “I just mean…  Aren’t you worried you’re gonna hurt him?”

There’s something, then, in Wynonna’s face, a crumbling sort of pain, that makes her regret butting in.

\--

With her sister’s words still niggling in the back of her mind, Wynonna pulls away from Dolls, leaving just a hair’s breadth between their lips.  “You know I like you, right?” she prompts.

“Um, yeah, I sorta got the message,” he laughs, hands sliding over her bare back.  When she doesn’t say anything, he sobers.  “What’s wrong?”

Shaking her head, she smiles softly.  “It’s nothing,” she whispers.  “I just wanted to make sure, yanno.”

Maybe it’s only part what Waverly said earlier.  Maybe it’s also just that they never really _talked_ about this.  She pushes her worry away to kiss him again, rough and open.  His grip tightens at her waist, fingers flexing but not digging in hard enough to hurt, enough to ground her in the moment.  It’s easier to push away the hurt and confusion after that.

\--

“I’m glad you guys are taking the night off,” Waverly grins, leaning across the bar as Dolls mimics her posture.  “I almost haven’t seen Wynonna for a week.”

Shrugging easily, he answers her smile with one of his own and says, “You know, we all need a break every once in a while.  Can I get a couple of beers?”

“Coming right up,” she replies cheerfully, rapping the bartop with her knuckles.

She turns away from him to grab a couple of bottles out of ice, dripping water all across the mats under her feet, knocks off the caps, and whirls back to him where a pretty blonde—Melissa, same age as Wynonna—is _entirely_ too close.  She watches the line of his back stiffen when the woman reaches forward to touch Dolls’ arm, and she _may_ set the bottles down too hard.  “Oh, hey—”

“Melissa!” Wynonna cheers, still holding a pool cue but less menacingly than usual.  The woman jumps as she positions herself almost between the two.  “Has he introduced himself yet?” she asks, grin sharp.

\--

Melissa, who had been among one of her tormentors in high school she never quite forgave, looks startled and shakes her head.  “Rude,” she tosses over her shoulder to Dolls.  “This is Xavier Dolls,” she says, gesturing quickly.  “Dolls, this is Melissa Harris.  We go _way_ back.”

She watches as they shake hands, awkwardly given her position.

“I’ve heard about you,” the blonde purrs.  “You’re a Marshal, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he answers, looking at Wynonna.

“Great!” Wynonna claps, hand falling to her holster.  “Now that you’ve met my big-ass boyfriend, did you want to meet my big-ass gun?”

And—wow—the way her face drains of all color is _so satisfying_.  She’s not the best person.

With a parting, “Freak,” Melissa stalks off.

Wynonna can’t help but cry after her, “I’ll see you at the reunion!  Bye, Mel!”

Twisting, she turns back to him, cheeks flushed.  “Boyfriend?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Waverly interrupts, slapping a hand on the bar.  “Boyfriend?”

“Um, well, we didn’t really talk about labels…” she trails off, peeking up at Dolls’ carefully pleased face.

\--

Gaping, Waverly has to reevaluate her entire worldview for a moment.  “Wait!  You can’t just—I told you to back off!  Oh my _god_!” she groans.  “It all makes sense now.”

Wynonna has at least the good sense to look sheepish.  “Sorry, like—I thought you _knew_ ,” she winces.  “I did kinda spend almost the whole week at his place.”

As she looks between the two of them, him with his arm casually around her back, her leaning just into him, she puffs out a breath.  She steels herself before saying, “So, I guess since we’re sharing secrets…  Nicole and I are sorta dating?”

The laughter in her sister’s face softens as she nods.  “Yeah, I—thanks for telling me, but I kinda figured,” she replies.

Face hot, she squawks, “Wait!  How?!  When?!”

“Well,” Wynonna pauses, dipping her head.  “I mean, the day an army stormed the homestead and tried to murderfy this guy.  You asked if chicks dig scars.  I’m not stupid.”  She offers a quick shrug.  “I just figured you weren’t telling me for a reason.”  By this point, Dolls is snickering and Waverly sees Wynonna dig her elbow into his ribs.

“Willa said you hadn’t told her!” she moans.

“Yeah,” Wynonna answers, as if it should be obvious.  “Kinda shitty to out someone who isn’t even out to you, right?”

After a brief, almost awkward silence, Waverly huffs in a rush, “I’m gonna hug you, okay?”  She scurries around the bar to fling herself into her sister’s arms, even as Wynonna chuckles into her hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to the anon who requested this! I hope this is what you were looking for! What a couple of freakin' nerds!
> 
> Check out my [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) where I scream a lot about these dweebs. Also, feel free to send me prompts, headcanons, lots of screaming...


End file.
